That assumes I was sane to begin with, I guess. And we all know that I'm not. My house is getting cleaner by the day. The rooms I've cleaned are likely cleaner than they've been since we moved in (that was in October, I think). I realized today that for 5 months I was resting and nothing got cleaned. So I started cleaning. Or maybe I just started trying to occupy my mind with something that didn't involve the boys or this feeling that I'm going to end up some crazy lady with 100 cats in her house. I have 2 vastly different emotions going on at once (which is likely the cause of my slipping sanity). At this rate, my bathroom floors will be able to be eaten off of.
I want time to move forward. I feel like I'm sitting here and time isn't moving. Like this day will never end, ever and I'll be stuck at this point in my life forever and then suddenly, one day I'll be 80 and my life will be over but I'll have never moved forward. I think that the primary emotion I have right now is anger (not that the sadness is gone, but it's being overwhelmed, I think). The problem is who to be angry at. There isn't really anybody to be mad at. Everybody did what they thought was the best at the point in time we were at. So the anger has no real outlet and it sits. Hence the cleaning.
I feel like everybody is moving past me. More and more people end up pregnant with their baby and soon I'll be the only one left. Everybody else will be having playdates and I'll be... pretending that I'm ok? Acting like I don't care and it doesn't really matter because we can do things without worrying about a babysitter?
Envious. I know that's on the list too. I envy the people who will never worry about losing their baby. I know that I'll spend every minute holding my breath while other people just go on about their life and never worry about anything. I feel like I'm doing that now, actually. I'm holding my breath and waiting, wondering when I'm going to get more horrible news. Wondering when... lots of wondering...
I feel like that sense of peace and joy that I found is gone. I finally felt like I was getting what I wanted, that my life was moving forward and everything was going to be ok. Now, I wonder if anything will ever be ok again. And my mind keeps drifting to this one thought - in about a month, I have to go back to a job that I don't like, people that I don't really know and answer a million questions about what happened and have to relive this entire experience over and over again for people who don't know me and just want their curiosity satisfied. I don't feel like I have the strength to handle that, yet I have no choice. I have to go back. Part of me just wants to print out a little business card that says "I lost my babies. No, I don't want to talk about it. Please don't ask me any questions." and then just hand that out to everybody. Except that would be rude. The world will expect me to answer all their prying questions ("what happened? why? are you ok? i'm sorry. you can try again, you know. you're still so young...). I hate every single one of those damn questions or statements. "Are you ok?" is probably the dumbest (yeah you moron I'm great. I'm thrilled that my babies died.) and "I'm sorry" is probably the lamest (that's the I don't know what to say, but I'll say I'm sorry cause it makes it seem like I care and I don't feel guilty).
I think the rudest of these is "You can try again. You're still so young." statement. This is typically said by people who are roughly 10 years older than me and seem to think that my children are replaceable. It's also common with people who assume that I am younger than my 30 years, because "You don't look 30!" (really asshole? I feel 30, so shut the hell up.). Like it matters how damn old I am. People assume that we just accidently ended up pregnant and we'll try again tomorrow and then have another baby without any problem. Here's a suggestion - don't assume anything. In fact, the absolute best statement that I've heard from people who've not ever been through this is "I don't know what to say." because it's the truth. It's honest. It's not trying to make that person feel better. It's not assuming anything. It's acknowledging that they don't know anything about how I feel right now and that they aren't going to try and act like they do. Trust me, should you ever meet somebody who's going through this, tell them that.